Haven't cried in years, she thought.This. This is what triggers it ?
I must be premenstrual.
She needed to buy something expensive to wear. Immediately. That would help take her mind off things.
She took the elevator down to the shops, shoving the Eye into her handbag. Then, checking to make sure she was still Visa-endowed, she disappeared into one of the stores to spend as much money as necessary on as little designer fabric as possible.
Quinn went into the washroom to splash some water on his face and tried to compose himself.
Good thing he wasn't trying to impress Janie with his manly ways, because he'd just messed up royally.
Revealed a little too much of that soft white underbelly. Women like her didnot go for signs of weakness.
He wished he could say he was just playing her to get what he wanted, but he was too bone-weary tired to play any more games. This was him. Warts and all.
Take it or leave it.
Janie, quite obviously, preferred to leave it, as she'd hot-tailed it out of the room as soon as she could.
Disgusted by him.
Good thing he didn't care what she thought.
He didn't, right?
He looked up at the bathroom mirror. Yet another one that refused to reflect his pasty face. Seemed to be a trend with mirrors. He brought his hand up to his face and touched his cheek, his nose, his eyebrows just to make sure he hadn't just faded away completely into nothingness.
When and if he got to be human again, he'd be able to see himself. Stare right into his own reflection and the person he hated most in the whole wide world.
He thought he resented his father for making him into the man he was?
Misplaced blame. Big-time.
Maybe being human again wouldn't solve all of his problems. Not even put a dent in them, but it was something. If he didn't have that goal… then what did he have? His life was completely and utterly devoid of meaning.
Except for finding Janie's sister.
After that, finding this Boss and kicking his ass. There was no way he'd let the guy lay a finger on Janie.
If he could accomplish that, then that was something. Something real that wasn't entirely self-serving.
He splashed some more cold water on his face and then left the room.
The fact that he was in a hotel that he knew currently held at least three hundred vampire hunters did not leave his mind for a moment. In addition to the fear—which he of course was feeling in spades—he also felt amused by the irony. He'd been a hunter, and now he was one of the hunted.
He tried to think back to what he would have done at a convention if he'd found a vamp at the hotel.
Called my friends and had a little fun, he thought with a sick feeling.
Best to keep as low a profile as possible. Later he'd do a little digging around and make sure everything was running smoothly without any Malcolm-induced surprises hiding in the woodwork.
According to the hunters they'd briefly met in the elevator, the awards were that night. They were called the awards, but really it was a chance to pat each other on the back and plan for the next year. Quinn already knew that the overall leader of the hunter community, Gideon Chase, was to give a brief motivational talk about his plans for the coming year. Quinn's father, Roger, had been a leader, but even he'd had somebody to answer to. And that man was Gideon.
Gideon was to the hunter community as Donald Trump was toManhattan real estate. Big bucks, from a long line of hunters. He enjoyed it. Found the glamour his father and grandfather before him had shunned.
This was his night to shine. In fact, Quinn knew that he was going to be receiving a special award for his work not only behind the scenes financially, but as a field operative who'd taken out a record number of vamps in the East Coast area over the past year. He and Quinn had even briefly been friends back in the day.
Briefly.
Yeah. Quinn would definitely be staying away from him.
He kept his eyes on the ground and made his way toward the lobby.
"I thought you said you'd only be a half an hour," he heard Janie say.
His downcast eyes landed on a pair of shiny black stiletto heels leading to long, bare legs, then a red dress that began several inches above the knee and fit her body like… like a really sexy tight red dress should. His gaze skimmed over the cleavage displayed by her plunging neckline. The halter-top straps framed her pale neck and throat, which were otherwise unadorned. Her lips were the color of her dress… red. Blood red. Her ice blue eyes were rimmed in smoky black liner. Her long blond hair fell across one shoulder, softly draping over her right breast.
"Uh… I… I…" His mouth was literally watering at the sight of her. He wasn't entirely sure if it was because of her exposed neck or the rest of her exposed skin. Probably a combination of the two.
Her red lips curled into a small smile at his lack of verbal skills. "Thanks. I just bought it. You like?"
She spun around slowly and slid a hand down over her hip.
He finally found his voice. "You went shopping? Don't you have more important things to think about right now?"
Her smile fell.
Goody Quinn. Insult her. Chicks love that.
Or… he could have told her hell, yeah, he liked it. And he was ready to rip it off her and take her up against the nearest slot machine.
One or the other. An insult or a come-on.
This was definitely his night to make a royal asshole out of himself.
"We need to find Lenny," she said. "I left a message on his voicemail that we'd arrived. Where the hell is he?"
She turned away from him so she could look around the casino. His mouth went very dry as he noticed that her dress was bare to the waist, revealing the smooth line of her back.
Lenny. Yeah, that would help. More testosterone. That's what he needed. Help to clear his head and remember what the hell was really important. And it wasn't Janie's annoyingly sexy red dress.
She chewed her bottom lip in a way that betrayed her nervousness. "We normally don't get assigned to
Vegas. OrAtlantic City . Lenny has a bit of a problem."
"A problem?"